


Purest Angel

by SatanSpawnedNougat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley invented Tumblr, Crowley's Apartment (Good Omens), Cute, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, I live for the cheesy tropes man, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), The author cannot survive writing fluff, This is rather cheesy, but unless you're lactose intolerant you should be fine, crowley's plants - Freeform, i died, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanSpawnedNougat/pseuds/SatanSpawnedNougat
Summary: Where Crowley decides to go to Hell with it all and just go for it. He ends up outside, in the pouring rain.(Idk how to make a summary for this particular story... it's fluff, man. That's all you need to know)





	Purest Angel

With a deep scowl on his face, Crowley scrolled through Tumblr. With every dimpled smile on his dash that greeted him, his scowl deepened. “What’s up with all those dimples lately?” The demon muttered in displease. He scowled down at the blogs who reposted the pictures of the dimpled humans. “I thought we were mutuals. I don’t know you guys anymore,” he said, pulling a face.

He just wanted to see Marvel on his dash. Was that too much to ask for a demon?

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Aziraphale’s voice asked out of nowhere, startling him.

Faster than lightning, the demon’s phone disappeared in the pocket of his jeans and he casually swung his arms over the back of his chair as if he hasn’t just scrolled through Tumblr the past two hours. Aziraphale didn’t exactly knew that he _had_ a blog - or that he invented Tumblr for that matter - and Crowley rather kept it that way. Tumblr was his dirty little secret. “Nothing to worry about,” he said, waving his arm when the angel entered the room he was in. “Hey, Angel, I got a question for you.”

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, looking around in curiosity. Crowley realized with a shock that Aziraphale hasn’t been to his apartment that often - they often hung out in his bookshop, which had almost become like a base. It gave him mixed feelings to see him inside his home - but he mostly just felt the startling need to slam him against a wall and keep him there, trapped right between his arms. He blinked at where his thoughts bought him and shook his head. Not having seen his plants since last decades, the angel commented on them, bringing Crowley out of his clutter of thoughts - a distraction he was glad to have. “Nice plants. They’re growing well.”

A proud smile formed on the demon’s lips and the plants shuddered, terrified, and the angel’s eyes narrowed slightly. Crowley's scowl returned when he remembered what he wanted to talk about. “Either way… my issue is with the dimples.”

“What’s wrong with dimples?” Aziraphale tilted his head.

“I hate dimples. They’re the absolute worst! And they keep appearing everywhere,” He complained, throwing his head back on the throne as he groaned deep in his throat - the sound occupied by what sounded much like a hiss.

“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled like the innocent little angel he was, “they’re like little thumbprints from God herself.” 

Lifting up his head, Crowley stared at the angel in the perfect mixture of disgust and awe. “I want you to know that my blood sugar levels spiked so fast that I am dying right now from how sweet that was,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his traitorous heart, “and then you’ll have a murder on your hands.”

A flash of panic crossed Aziraphale’s expression. “Don’t die, please,” the angel cried out, crossing the room until he stood in front of him. Crowley lifted up his head from where he was seated on his throne and blinked in surprise when Aziraphale’s gentle hands went around his face, grasping his cheeks. “You aren’t dying, are you?” The angel asked, inspecting him closely.

 _You might end up killing me when you keep your hands where they are_. Yet he didn't dare say that aloud, not sure how the other would take such a confession. “That was just an exaggeration, Angel,” Crowley tried to say, but with Aziraphale squeezing his cheeks together like that it probably came out more like mumbling, but Aziraphale still seemed to understand.

“That’s good then,” he said with a bright smile, removing his hands and Crowley immediately missed his touch. He clenched his own hands into fists as they rested on the armrests of his throne, so he wouldn’t do anything he later might regret. His gaze focused on Aziraphale, who seemed obviously unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind - something that both seemed like a relief and oddly disappointed the demon. He was a _demon_ , he shouldn't be feeling such things. Some would argue that demons weren't supposed to feel _at all_. Which would make Crowley the worst demon there is. “I wouldn’t want my friend to die," the angel added and Crowley closed his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts.

He knew that Aziraphale meant well, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart painfully broke. Without being aware of it, the angel held his fragile heart in the palm of his hand - and crushed it bit by bit with each passing of a century. _How oblivious can you be_? He wanted to yell in his face while slamming him up against a wall and refusing to let go until he got an answer, but Crowley bit his tongue and instead smiled back. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid. Afraid to be rejected - he would rather be just friends and suffer through the pain than lose his angel altogether. “I won’t die that easily. I won't leave you like that," he spoke in a soft whisper, sealing a promise to himself.

Aziraphale studied him for a while. “Crowley, are you alright?” He finally asked. The demon blinked, a flash of panic coursing through him. “You just seem… worried, almost.”

“It’s just,” he started to say, catching his tongue at the last moment. Would he actually be able to tell him? Carefully weighting his opinions as if it was a matter of life and death, he decided he would try to tell him at least _something_. “It’s just this fear I have,” he almost whispered, “I have this fear that if I turn my back for even a second… that you will disappear forever and leave me behind.”

“I won’t leave you,” Aziraphale told him, eyes wide at what he had revealed.

 _Even if you knew that I am in love with you? Could you actually be with someone like me_?

He didn’t dare say that aloud though, not wanting to ruin whatever they had between them. He knew that Aziraphale was still loyal to Heaven and that he had his faith, and that he wasn’t ready to let go of that just yet… and who was he to demand Aziraphale to let go of everything that he stood for, just so he could be loved? He wasn’t sure he could ask something as selfish as that of him.

He was a horrible demon. Falling in love with an angel.

Not wanting to end up drowning in his own thoughts, he randomly took out a wine bottle and presented it to the Angel of the Eastern Gate. “Fancy a drink?”

Aziraphale’s expression was slightly worried as he studied him thoughtfully. “Very well,” he finally said, seemingly coming to a conclusion.

~~

“Hey, Aziraphale?” Crowley slurred before Aziraphale could leave after a couple of hours had passed. He sounded almost doubtful, and he wasn’t sure what to think of that. The angel gave him a curious look over his shoulder. “How… how can you sssmile through everything like that?”

Aziraphale’s answering smile was almost sad. “When the world is crashing down around me, I smile,” the angel spoke. “It’s the only way to keep myself from crashing down as well.” Before Crowley could open his mouth, Aziraphale had already stepped outside and closed the door behind him, leaving Crowley behind.

Crowley knew what he ought to do. Give the angel his space and time to figure everything out on his own, but this time felt different. He didn’t want it to go like that. He wasn't sure what prompted him to his next action; maybe the amounts of alcohol he had consumed, maybe what Aziraphale had told him, or maybe something else altogether. Balling his hands into fists, a small hiss slipped past his lips and he went after Aziraphale. Right into the pouring rain. “AZIRAPHALE!!” He called out, not caring who else could hear him.

Startled, the angel looked back at him, clothes and hair drenched by the rain. “Crowley! Get back inside, you’ll get sick!”

“I could say the same to you,” Crowley stubbornly replied as he stalked over. His clothes were drenched in no time and his fierce hair fell down in his serpentine eyes, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was reaching him. He knew that he didn’t want Aziraphale to leave him behind and go on like there was nothing wrong at all, not this time. He didn’t stop walking until they stood basically chest-to-chest, which made Aziraphale’s eyes widen at the close proximity. “Aziraphale,” he said. Now that he stood in front of him, he didn’t know what to say anymore. So he stood there like the world's most pathetic excuse of a demon, just saying his name and getting lost in those deep blue eyes like the idiot he was.

“You are an idiot,” the angel scolded him, as if reading his thoughts, “it’s raining cats and dogs outside.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he replied pathetically. He didn’t like how he sounded, but at least it was just the two of them. As it has always been.

“Crowley, what do you want from me?” Aziraphale asked, gaze burning from emotions he wouldn’t reveal just yet. Somehow, Crowley knew that the angel wasn't just talking about this very moment. 

The demon’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know how I can tell you into words,” he started to say, “but I can show you.” Before he would lose his tiny shard of courage, he reached out and took the wide-eyed angel in his arms, holding him close as if carrying the greatest treasure of the entire universe in his very hands. And then he kissed him.

If it could be called a kiss. It was barely the ghost of lips over each other, tempting as the forbidden fruit and gentle as the touch of the softest feathers. And then it was gone as quickly as it came. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking straight into Aziraphale’s startled expression and panic took hold of his heart. _Did I just screw everything up? Did I went too fast for him_?

But before he could do or say anything, Aziraphale stood on the tips of his toes and kissed him again, arms finding their place around his neck. And Crowley had never felt happier. “I’m sorry,” was all that Aziraphale whispered against his lips.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Angel. Not you.” And then their lips found each other again as they stood outside, engulfed in each other's arms and completely drenched but ignorant to the wetness. Invisible wings wrapped around them both, like shields protecting them against the rain; obsidian black and the purest white.


End file.
